As parents, we dream of passing on certain skills to our kids and hope they will take an interest in things close to our hearts.
Daddy D, I know, hopes Baby D would take to martial arts and video games. I hope very much that he'll some day lead his mommy in a brisk jive or the cha cha. I'd like him to develop a love for reading, but worry that the Enid Blytons I grew up on would introduce him to all the wrong stereotypes. On the other hand, can't wait for his eleventh birthday to roll around, so I can finally introduce him to Harry Potter.
Both mommy and daddy have set their hearts on him being a swimmer of some note - there should be at least one in a family of people who can't swim two strokes to save their lives.
But what of those things, that he must never learn, at least not from his parents. Well, we had anticipated before his arrival on the necessity of having to tone down our "language" or encode it so he doesn't catch on. We thought we might have to spell out the grown up stuff instead of saying it straight out in front of him. Still, there are things we never could have foreseen.
Baby D is a rather frowny baby, and we never really understood what his worries were that he must frown so. That was until I realized he takes after me. I am a frowner too, and not necessarily when I am angry, but when I'm thinking, which is most of the times. So Baby D now wears a pensive little frown way beyond his age and appears wiser than he really is.
Also, I am a knuckle cracker. I do it so often I don't even notice anymore. Baby D, these days finds his fingers fascinating! When he's not trying to eat them whole, he's flexing them and looking at them and getting ready for his first "grabs". So when I lay next to him, cracking away, it apparently piqued his interest. Luckily I noticed this fairly quickly and stopped myself, offering any excuses I could think of on why it was OK for me to crack, but not him. The last thing I want on my hands is a precocious little infant who cracks his knuckles!
Tricky times! Got to watch every step I take.
Daddy D, I know, hopes Baby D would take to martial arts and video games. I hope very much that he'll some day lead his mommy in a brisk jive or the cha cha. I'd like him to develop a love for reading, but worry that the Enid Blytons I grew up on would introduce him to all the wrong stereotypes. On the other hand, can't wait for his eleventh birthday to roll around, so I can finally introduce him to Harry Potter.
Both mommy and daddy have set their hearts on him being a swimmer of some note - there should be at least one in a family of people who can't swim two strokes to save their lives.
But what of those things, that he must never learn, at least not from his parents. Well, we had anticipated before his arrival on the necessity of having to tone down our "language" or encode it so he doesn't catch on. We thought we might have to spell out the grown up stuff instead of saying it straight out in front of him. Still, there are things we never could have foreseen.
Baby D is a rather frowny baby, and we never really understood what his worries were that he must frown so. That was until I realized he takes after me. I am a frowner too, and not necessarily when I am angry, but when I'm thinking, which is most of the times. So Baby D now wears a pensive little frown way beyond his age and appears wiser than he really is.
Also, I am a knuckle cracker. I do it so often I don't even notice anymore. Baby D, these days finds his fingers fascinating! When he's not trying to eat them whole, he's flexing them and looking at them and getting ready for his first "grabs". So when I lay next to him, cracking away, it apparently piqued his interest. Luckily I noticed this fairly quickly and stopped myself, offering any excuses I could think of on why it was OK for me to crack, but not him. The last thing I want on my hands is a precocious little infant who cracks his knuckles!
Tricky times! Got to watch every step I take.
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